by Gloria Cook
‘I wouldn’t do anything foolish to harm my child, Honor.’ Emilia had kept her hands spread over her swell, as if to protect the tiny human forming inside her. ‘It’s such a powerful feeling, the desire to keep this little one safe.’
Honor’s smile of understanding had turned serious. ‘I hope I don’t have more than one baby. In fact, I’ll make sure I won’t. I know about the proper medical ways to make sure of it.’
Emilia was speechless at her friend’s uncharacteristic remarks. It struck her how much Honor had grown in confidence.
‘I thought you’d be shocked. Well, I’ve read these books. They’re frowned on, of course. There’s a new woman at the Red Cross meetings, she’s involved with the Suffrage Movement. She was horrified at learning I was engaged. She gave me quite a lecture. She brought me the books the next time I saw her. I was mystified at first, but they explain ways to prevent conception, so married women don’t have to go on producing a baby year after year. And, even more controversial, that side of life isn’t only for men to enjoy, you know, Em.’
‘I know that, Honor,’ Emilia had said, feeling silly to be the one to blush. ‘Gosh, if your aunt knew you held these views she’d die in a blue funk.’ Like Alec, Ben had always said he wanted a large family, so he and Honor had entirely different outlooks. ‘You are doing the right thing by marrying Ben, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, I think so, but I do envy you, Em. Your marriage is more of a partnership. Alec relies on you, while Ben thinks he has to protect me, no, I think he needs to be in that role. We still have no love life. I get the feeling that when it does happen, he’ll think it’s something for me to endure, while he’ll be jolly sorry about it. I know that’s what would generally be considered a wife’s duty, but, well, I’m not planning on settling for that. Ben might take me more seriously if we were closer in that way. Don’t you agree, Em?’
Emilia had squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Yes, good for you. Show him you’re every bit a real woman.’
‘I’m grateful to Ben for bringing you home,’ Alec had said when he’d arrived.
‘Good.’ Emilia had wound her arms round Alec’s neck and kissed his mouth, kissed him long and hard.
‘Wow, what was that for?’
‘Just showing you how much I’m looking forward to being completely well again.’
* * *
That evening in the Wesleyan hall, Tristan handed Ben a bottle of brandy. ‘With Alec’s compliments. He’s also asked me to pass on his gratitude for your care of Emilia today.’
Pleased with the offering, Ben dismissed the sentiment that went with it. ‘Is that why his lordship isn’t here? People are getting concerned, he had a duty to perform.’
‘He said he wouldn’t leave Emilia if the Kaiser himself turned up on the doorstep, so he talked me into coming in his place.’ Aware of the sidelong glances aimed his way, Tristan braced himself. He was in for a hell of a time warding off underhand remarks about Ursula, and he would have to keep an eye on the boisterous Jim. He felt guilty about leaving Ursula, with only Jonathan to run to Alec for help if she needed anything urgently. Alec had insisted Tilda and Sara should not miss this rare social event.
‘You’ll give us an equally fine performance, Captain Harvey,’ Florence Burrows pontificated when she learned of his deputization.
‘What do you mean?’ Tristan felt himself burning all over.
Although there was no heating in the modest, bleak hall, it had already grown warm and stuffy with so many bodies packed inside it, all determined to show their patriotism. There were other uniformed men, but his superior rank meant he was receiving more attention from their salutes. ‘What do I have to do?’ ‘You’re the auctioneer, of course.’ Florence tried to usher him towards the platform.
Tristan’s eyes widened in panic. ‘I couldn’t! I thought I was only here to present Alec’s cheque. No, it’s out of the question. I’m not up to it.’ He clutched hold of Ben’s smartly overcoated arm. ‘Ben, you’ve got to help me.’
‘It’s all right, Tris.’ Ben caught his trembling hand. ‘I’ll do it. If Alec wasn’t so bloody damned selfish he’d have known you’re not up to this sort of thing.’
The first part of the evening proceeded well under Ben’s charge, the goods had all been cleared and he announced an interval before the auction of the ‘talents’, saying that over seventy pounds had been raised, a sum already way beyond the total of a previous similar occasion.
Finding it hard to concentrate, Tristan had sat rigidly next to Honor. ‘Thanks for that, Ben,’ he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. ‘Everything still seems strange, some things even more alien than when I was over there. Normal life – but it doesn’t seem normal to be living a normal life.’
‘Life isn’t normal for any of us, Tris. Some of us die, some of us are changed beyond recognition, some of us do things that would have been unthinkable before the war. The war, the war, we all live, think and eat it every moment of every day. Now, here am I only eighteen and already planning to marry. Tris, have you made any plans yourself yet?’
‘With Ursula, you mean? I’m prepared to give our marriage another chance.’ He had come back from seeing the medics about his ankle to find Ursula crying. Not the soft, sorrowing sniffing she had employed most days since her return, but pitiable, body-wrenching moaning. He had gone to her, where she had been lying on her side on the bed, facing away from the door.
‘Ursula, what is it?’ His hand had hovered over her. ‘Are you in pain?’
The blubbering had stopped, she shook her head.
‘What then?’
She had buried her head in the pillow, and he had walked round the bed, sat close beside her, then, after a moment’s waver, had touched her hair and kept his hand lightly on her head. ‘Tell me, don’t be afraid.’
Slowly, she had revealed her face, red and swollen and pathetic. ‘I don’t know what to do, Tris.’
He’d had to lower his head to hear her ragged words. And she had reached up and grabbed him, pulling him down to her, clinging to him. ‘It would be better if I was dead, wouldn’t it?’
‘Don’t say that!’ He had eased her away from him, but only so he could lay down at her side and hold her to him. ‘We’ll make it right somehow.’ He wanted to. God help him, he still loved her, and because of that, despite his revulsion at feeling the movements of another man’s child inside her, he had forced himself to stay and talk, to listen to the terrible truths of her infidelity, and to make plans for the future.
He went on talking to Ben, marvelling at how he made it sound like ordinary conversation. ‘The CO’s been understanding. I’m transferring to the 3rd, at Freshwater, the Isle of Wight, as soon as Ursula’s complication is out of the way. I’ll be tied down to an office while this ankle makes up its mind. Eventually, we’ll have to settle somewhere where, I hope, current events won’t ever catch up with us, for Jonny’s sake.’
‘It’s not right that you and Jonny should be exiled from your family.’
‘Fate has us in its hands, I’m afraid, Ben.’
Jim, scrubbed and presentable in his suit and stiff collar, had been trying to get close to Elena Rawley, and was staring, open-mouthed, because her father had hissed, ‘Bugger off!’ at him. He prodded his sister’s arm. ‘Sara, aren’t men of the cloth forbidden to swear?’
‘Course, they are. What on earth are you talking about? You better not be upsetting anyone. You promised Cap’n Harvey you’d behave.’
‘Don’t nag. I’m going to get myself something to eat.’ Whispering broke out when a latecomer arrived, but Sara was unaware of it. Nervous about the possibility of singing in front of so many people – there seemed to be a lot more here than when she’d sung in the church – she was trying to view herself in a mirror, bargained for and won for two shillings by Mrs Frayne. Tilda had arranged her hair in the same style Mrs Em wore hers, the front part sweeping up in generous folds, the long length in a single fat plait. She hoped it made her loo
k more grown up. She caught a man’s reflection smiling at hers.
‘Miss Sara,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll be given the chance to sing often tonight.’
She turned to the man. He was like a pale, thin tower. She could hear a little gasp at the end of each of his breaths. His walking sticks seemed inadequate to the task of supporting him. ‘Archie, how did you get here?’
‘Eliza has a donkey and cart of her own. She talked me into coming. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll find myself a seat.’ Tristan was also staring at Archie. ‘Good heavens, Ben. Never thought to see him turn up for this. He’s changed under your care. His peculiar eyes have taken on a less stark appearance.’
‘That’s because Honor fusses over him like a mother hen. I’ll get her to fetch him a cup of tea.’
‘Get away from her!’ Jim had pushed his way back to his sister. He prodded Archie’s shoulder before he could move towards a chair.
‘I was only—’
‘I’ve told you before,’ Jim threatened, hurling himself in front of Sara. ‘Go near her again and I’d knock your bleddy block off.’
‘There’s no need for that young man. I—’
‘You just don’t listen, do you?’ Jim pushed Archie again. With a cry, he toppled to the floor.
Ben had been making his way towards them. ‘How dare you lay a hand on an elder and better, you workhouse brat!’
Smarting at the insult, Jim’s resentment bubbled up over the opinion of his character Ben Harvey had put about when defending Archie Rothwell. Jim scowled under his breath, ‘Mr Harvey, the dead-eyed nothing.’
Ben’s hands were on Jim’s lapels before he’d finished muttering his disrespect. He butted Jim in the face, making blood gush from his nose. ‘You scum-ridden bastard! Get out of here.’
‘No one treats me like that!’ Jim was nearly as tall and as broad as Ben. While people gasped, he used his brawn to rip Ben’s hands off him, then smashed his fist into Ben’s guts. Ben doubled over, but his sparring hands grabbed the hem of Jim’s jacket and he ploughed into him, taking them both down on to the planked floor, near to where Archie was sprawled. They hit a trestle, denying some of the glass and china new ownership as pieces fell off and broke.
Women screamed and men protested, and those nearest the falling brawlers staggered into others. Children wailed as their feet were accidentally stepped on, their faces cuffed. The gathering scattered, cramped as it was, to a safer distance. Honor was struggling to get through to Archie.
Furious with Ben for furthering the violence, Tristan tried to wrench him away from Jim; likewise, Edwin Rowse tried to get Jim under control. All pleas for order were ignored as Ben and Jim grappled on the floor, until Ben, afraid Tristan would get hurt, released the lock he had on Jim’s neck and gave him a contemptuous push.
There was a fresh outbreak of indignant mutterings and children’s whimperings. Here and there, insidious remarks began to circulate about Archie.
‘Please, listen to me,’ Archie implored. Somehow his voice rang out above the exclamations and shufflings. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I didn’t mean any harm to Miss Sara. I only wanted—’
‘I know what your sort wants, whatever others choose to believe about you,’ Jim bawled in the manner of stubborn adolescence, spitting blood out of his mouth. ‘You’re a living disgrace, you should be dead. We’ve got no reason to trust you. You should be run out of the village, dumped in the sea.’
‘I wish I was dead,’ Archie whispered, sinking further down. ‘Dead in the sea.’
While Honor finally reached Archie, her aunt got to Jim. Florence smashed her hand across his face, the sound was bone-crunching. ‘You viper! You wretch. I’ll have you know that poor man is an officer and a gentleman. He’s crippled because he fought in the Battle of Jutland for the likes of you. No one but those he’s lived with knows that, because he’s too humble to boast of his sacrifice. I’m going to demand that Alec Harvey either throws you out or thrashes you for your vile assumptions. Shame should weigh down your shoulders for the rest of your life, Jim Killigrew.’
Jim stared at the man he had insulted and humiliated, the man now coughing and paler than ever before, who seemed to have shrunk to half his height and was clinging to the young woman who had gone to his aid, as if he wanted to hide away for ever. The boy hung his head. Silence drifted down like a heavy layer of dishonour in the hall.
Barely holding back her sobs, Sara bundled Jim outside. Tristan, after mumbling his apologies to the people, followed them. He felt he was choking on a throatful of bile.
Ben reached down to Honor. ‘We’ll go as well and take Archie with us. May God never forgive that boy!’
* * *
‘The ignorant little wretch! Jim will feel more than the back of my hand round his ear for this.’ Alec’s agitated paces were threatening to wear away the carpet in the sitting room, where he was sharing a nightcap with Tristan. ‘But tomorrow I’ll tell Ben to keep his damned hands off my staff. It was his egotistical actions that made the situation get out of hand.’
‘You will not, I forbid it.’ Tristan tossed back his whisky. ‘I know Ben’s upset you but he’s just a boy, a boy you were a father figure to until a short time ago. He’s your flesh and blood.’
‘All the more reason for him not betraying me.’
‘For goodness sake, what do you think this evening’s been all about? War! Because men of one country have no respect for the rights of men of another and would rather live in suspicion and hatred, and choose to send their countrymen to die on their behalf. It’s no wonder the world’s in such a state when two brothers are too bloody damned selfish and too pigheaded to let bygones rest.’
Alec allowed a period of silence for his brother to fume. ‘Jonny fell asleep at eight o’clock, haven’t heard a squeak out of him since.’
‘So Ursula’s been left without attendance since then? I’ll go up and see if she wants some cocoa or something.’
‘I’m not that unfeeling, Tris. I took her up some hot milk and biscuits an hour ago. She’s resting comfortably.’
Tristan helped himself to another large whisky. He would take the bottle up with him. He couldn’t face another sleepless night.
‘I thought we’d have a farewell family dinner before you take up your new posting, Tris,’ Alec said.
‘It would mean a lot to me if you invited Ben and Honor too,’ Tristan replied. Now he waited while his brother stewed in a moody silence. ‘You could at least think about it.’
* * *
Ursula was wringing her hands beside the banked-in fire in the bedroom. Alec’s sudden appearance with a tray had unnerved her.
‘You haven’t come out of concern for me. What do you want?’
He’d put a hand either side of her chair, bringing his face close. ‘You’re soon to leave my house and good riddance. I want you to dwell on these words, Ursula. You’ve broken Tris’s heart once, don’t think to do it again. He’s not going to the Front again, thank God, and I want him to have a contented future, if that’s ever possible with you. Never forget what you owe him. You treat him right, you honour and cherish him, or, I swear on God’s holy name, I’ll come after you. Understand?’
Leaning away, she’d nodded. ‘Tristan wouldn’t approve of you treating me like this.’
‘I’m looking out for my brother, that’s all. I don’t trust you, Ursula. And I’m sure Tris won’t ever really trust you again.’
Now, she heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs, then Alec going into his room. She looked hopefully at the door. Tristan’s tread had stopped outside. ‘Come in,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, please come in.’
He moved away to Henry’s room.
Getting up on awkward limbs, she shuffled to the door. She would go after him, ask him how the evening went, show an interest, make an effort, prove she would be a good wife from now on.
She let her hand fall off the handle. Alec had been right about Tristan showing no trust in her. He was s
till aloof. On edge. He had changed. Because of her adultery, his battle experiences, or both, he was no longer completely selfless and compassionate. How could he be? Why should he be?
In a week or two she would give birth and only see her baby for a few minutes. Then she would go away with her son, whom she’d have to lie to about a dead brother or sister, and her husband, who might regret his decision to take her back. Apart from having Jonny, it was a miserable prospect.
‘Mummy, can’t you sleep?’ Jonathan was sitting up in bed. ‘Shall I fetch Daddy for you?’
‘No, darling.’ She got into the bed with him and cuddled him against her. ‘Let’s try to settle down.’
Bruce Ashley came into her thoughts. Since his sudden appearance in the garden he had shadowed them every part of every day and night. She had destroyed the paper with his address on it, but not before she had memorized it. His appeal to run away with him, that he’d ensure they took Jonny with them this time, became more enticing. She would have everything then. Her son, her baby, and the man she still loved. Could Bruce pull it off? He was a master at schemes. But would he still be lying low at this inn in Chacewater after three weeks of silence from her? Bruce got bored quickly. He may have gone back to Bristol, or somewhere else.
If he was still there, it meant he really did love her. And that she could trust him, and all he had planned for their future this time would actually happen. Jonny would be upset for a while, but he would soon settle down with a new brother or sister and an exciting and charming stepfather.
It was a huge risk to take. She might lose everything if it went wrong. Was it worth it? Was Bruce worth it?
‘Jonny, darling, if I asked you to do something for me in secret, would you promise not to tell anyone? Not even Daddy?’
‘Are you planning a surprise for him?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Promise you’ll keep it a secret? It’s a terrible thing to ruin a surprise.’
